You'll Be Okay
by sandybeliever
Summary: First watching The Rupture and then hearing about Jared...this story came to mind


Sam pulled in a shuddering breath. He had killed Rowena. Dean had asked him if he was okay and tried to make him talk but Sam just brushed him off. He shut his eyes trying to block out the memory but the feeling of the knife piercing the woman's skin repeated itself over and over in his mind. The sound she made as the knife found its mark would haunt his dreams forever.

Sam stood up and suddenly felt like a caged animal. He paced the room and raked his hand through his hair. Glancing at the door, he wondered if he could get out of the bunker without being detected.

_It has to be you. _Rowena's words rang out in his head. His covered his ears as if that would block them out. _Do it! Kill me, Samuel!_

Sam forced himself to sit back down and waited until he heard Dean go into his room for the night. He knew his brother liked to end a tough day listening to his favorite music. Cas wasn't around and Sam could tell Dean had something on his mind. Sam heard Dean down the hall in the bathroom. He clawed his nails over his thighs over and over. _Relax,_ he thought to himself. _You need to relax until Dean heads to his room._ Sam quickly shifted on the bed and leaned against the headboard, putting one foot up on the bed as he heard the bathroom door open.

As expected, Dean stuck his head in the half-opened door. "I'm heading to bed." He looked Sam up and down. "You should get some rest too, man. It's been a bad few days."

Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah, of course." He forced a yawn. "I think I'll get a glass of milk or something then lights out for me too." His heartbeat quickened as a quizzical look passed over Dean's face.

"You sure? I can hang out if you need to talk."

"No, no, really. Go ahead. I'll…I'll see you tomorrow." Sam hated lying to his brother.

"Okay, then. Goodnight."

Sam sat back up as he listened to Dean heading down the hall to his room. The door clicked shut. After a few minutes, Sam heard the muffled sounds of 70s rock just before Dean slipped his headphones on and the bunker grew quiet.

Sam grabbed a jacket from his closet, pulled it on and went out into the hall, closing the door behind him so no one could see he was gone. He considered taking one of the vehicles in the garage but thought it would make too much noise, so he decided to go by foot.

Once outside, Sam zipped up his jacket against the cold and headed toward the center of town. It didn't take him long to reach Main Street The town was so small, it only had one bar. Sam suddenly regretted not taking a car. He knew people in the town and he didn't want to talk to anyone. He slowed to a stop and stood in the middle of the road. Jim's Place, the bar, was on his left. A few pickups were parked in front. He sighed and headed in.

As Sam entered the small building, the few men that were there stopped and looked his way. Two older men were playing cards at a table while the bar held a man he recognized from the post office. As Sam was about to turn and leave, the men all seemed to accept his presence and went back to their card games and beers.

"Sam, right?" the bartender said.

"Uh, yeah, that's right."

"You look like you could use a stiff one, buddy. Come on over and sit down."

Sam slowly walked to the bar and sat on one of the old worn stools. "Thanks," he said simply.

Dean was pulling on his robe as walked out of his room and toward the bathroom down the hall. "The worst part about drinking beer," he said quietly as he tiptoed passed Sam's door. He hadn't slept much as the conversation with Cas had played over and over in his head.

He had just shut the bathroom door when his cell phone rang in his robe pocket. He scrambled to take it out before it woke up his brother. "Hullo?" he said as he didn't recognize the number. "Yes, this is he." Dean's confused expression turned to concern. He ran down the hall and opened Sam's bedroom door. The room was empty and the bed unused. He leaned his forearm against the door frame then rested his forehead on it. "Okay, I understand. Yes, I'll be down there soon. Thank you, officer."

Dean let out a breath. He wished the phone was the old fashion kind that you could slam the receiver down. He resisted the urge to chuck his cell phone down the hall. His anger soon melted into concern.

After putting on some jeans, he stormed down the hall toward the bunker garage, slowing as he realized he had no one there to share his worry with. There was no one to hear him say, "Sam's been arrested and I need to go bail him out." He stopped momentarily as the feeling of missing Cas overwhelmed him but shook it off just as suddenly as it came on. "Screw him. I'm coming, Sammy," he said to the empty hall.

Less than 15 minutes later, Dean pulled up in front of the town's Sheriff Office. He quickly exited the Impala and pushed open the old wooden door.

"Yes, may I help you?" a middle-aged deputy behind the desk asked.

"Yeah, hi. I got a call about my brother, Sam Campbell."

"Oh, okay. Let me get Sheriff Hutchinson."

Dean looked around trying to spot where Sam was being held. His stomach tightened with worry and guilt for not knowing Sam needed him more than he let on. As Cas would say, "That's typical of you Winchesters." A flash of anger crossed Dean's face as he thought of the angel.

An office door opened, and the sheriff stepped out. "Mr. Campbell, I'm Sheriff Hutchinson. We met a few months ago at the summer festival."

"Sure, I remember. Call me Dean." Dean tried to slow his breathing as he dealt with the small talk. "I understand you have my brother here?" Dean was surprised to see the other man smile slightly.

"Yeah, he's in the back sleeping it off."

"What the hell, er…what happened?"

"I was hoping you could shed some light on it. He went into Jim's Place," he gestured vaguely out the window" at about 10:30 last night. Everything seemed fine, according to Ted."

"Ted?" Dean asked, trying to appear calm.

"The bartender."

Dean's mind raced but the sheriff pause. "And?"

"Your brother was pretty quiet but really started throwing back the booze. Beers, whiskey, even gin."

Dean's stomach flipped over at the thought of mixing all those. "Aw, Sammy," he said quietly to himself.

Everything was copacetic until Jimmy's daughter, Ruthie, came in to say goodnight. It all went sideways as soon as she came up to the bar.

Dean's mind was racing again. _Ruthie, why does that sound familiar?_ He thought. Then he realized he knew who the daughter was. He had admired her since coming to the town. Slender girl, pale skin, long flowing red hair. He rubbed his hand across his eyes. "Oh no."

"Do they have a history?" the sheriff asked.

Dean looked up, momentarily confused. "Oh no. Heck no. I'm not sure they've even met." He took in a long breath. "You see, I think the problem is she reminded him of someone. A…friend. Someone that…passed away. Yesterday, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"My brother…he is taking it really hard. And that's why he came down for a drink."

"But then seeing Ruth…I understand, somewhat. But, he and Ted got into it out on the sidewalk."

Dean's eyes opened wide and he walked away for a moment. He turned back as he asked, "They got in a fight?"

The Sheriff smiled slightly again and Dean resisted the urge to tell him this wasn't funny. This was his little brother he was talking about; his brother that was hurting much worse than a bad hangover.

"Not sure you could even call it that. Sam was so wasted by then, he could barely manage to get Ted in a head lock. When my deputy showed up, he just gave up. Sat down on the car bumper and mumbled something about hell."

Dean's heart jumped a little at that. Hopefully his drunken ramblings would be passed off as, well, drunken ramblings.

"He's in a dark place right now, Sheriff. Can I bail him out and take him home?"

The sheriff nodded. "Sure thing." He waved over to the deputy to get the paperwork in order. "Just so you know, Ted called me right before you got here. He dropped the charges. But Sam still has the drunk and disorderly."

"Well, I appreciate that," Dean said as he pulled out his wallet and moved over to the desk to pay the bail. "I'll be sure to come by later and apologize to Ted and thank him for being so understanding."

"You boys have never been any trouble and under the circumstances, I think this whole thing will just blow over. Everyone in town will know all about it…small towns…you know how that goes."

"I sure do. News travels fast."

"Nothing better to do. We never get any drama here in Lebanon, ya know."

Dean's foot started tapping impatiently and he willed it to stop. No need to aggravate this very empathetic law man. They may need him on their side someday.

When everything was in order, the deputy brought Sam out. His hair was mussed and his eyes were watery. His overshirt collar was twisted under. Dean reach out and straightened it. "Hiya, Sammy."

"Dean…"

"I know, I know. Come on, let's go home."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are." Dean hooked his right hand under Sam's left arm and steered him toward the door. "You shoulda talked to me, Sam." Dean turned back to wave at the two officers before pulling open the door and moving Sam out onto the sidewalk. He got him into the passenger seat and looked down the street toward the bar. "Did you walk here?" he asked since he didn't see one of the bunker vehicles along the road.

"Huh?"

Dean sighed, "We'll figure that out later. Let's get you in bed." He eyed his baby brother. "You're not going to puke in Baby, are you?"

"Okay," Sam said as his eyes started to water and he licked his lips.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on!" Dean pulled Sam back out of the car and managed to get him behind some hedges before Sam let loose what was in his stomach. Thankfully it wasn't much and thankfully it was still before dawn, so no one was around to witness it. He pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped Sam's mouth. Sam stood up and finished wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Gross. You okay now?" The only reply he got was tears running down Sam's face. He pulled him into a hug forgetting to worry about getting vomit on his coat. "Shh, it's okay. I've got you."

"It's not okay, Dean." Sam's too-loud voice echoed in the empty street so Dean hurried and got him back into the car. He smoothed Sam's hair down lovingly.

"But it will be. I know you're hurting. I know what you went through was messed up. But she told you it was the only way." Dean shut the door as Sam contemplated what he had said and got into the driver's seat. He started the car up and slowly made his way toward the bunker.

Sam stayed quiet during the trip. His head wobbled slightly when they hit rough pavement but he remained awake, staring straight ahead. Dean could practically hear the gears turning in Sam's head. Instead of parking the car in the garage, he chose to leave it outside the front door for the time being and got Sam down the stairs and into his room without incident. He pulled off Sam's boots and pushed his shoulders down onto the bed. He grabbed the metal trash container, which was of course empty since his little brother was a neat freak, and placed it near the bed.

"See this, Sam? See it?" After receiving an annoyed glance, he added. "Don't forget it's there if you need it."

"'kay."

Dean studied his brother's face. Sam laid flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "You going to be able to sleep?"

"I'm fine," Sam said quietly.

Dean let out an exasperated breath as he pulled the chair from the desk and placed it next to the bed. "That's what you said about four or five hours ago. Talk."

Sam's eyes narrowed as he finally looked at Dean then he rolled over on the bed with his back toward his brother. "Just leave me alone, Dean. You don't…" Sam stopped.

"What? I don't understand how you feel?"

"No, that's not what I…never mind."

"Sam, you know that she would have been dead anyway if we didn't stop them." Receiving no answer, he continued. "She saved us. She saved everyone, Sam. Just like Crowley did. I told you yesterday, you didn't have a choice."

After a moment of silence, Sam rolled onto his back. "I know."

"Your head knows all this but it's that heart…that giant heart…that isn't going to let you rest. You just need time." Sam growled quietly and Dean smiled for the first time in a long time. "I know, it sucks. Shows we're human, ya know?"

Sam slipped his hand under his head. He belched and grinned slightly when Dean made a big deal of pretending it was offensive. The smile didn't last, though. "Do you…do you think they are together?"

"Rowena and Crowley?"

"Yes."

"Hell, yeah. See what I did there?" He elbowed Sam trying to coax another smile. "I heard while Michael had me you declared there would be no new king of hell." Sam nodded sadly. "Well…you never said there couldn't be a queen." This time, Sam did smile slightly as he imagined it.

Sam pushed himself up to a seated position and groaned. Dean grabbed the trash can and offered it. Sam waved it away. "I'm okay."

"Just physically?" Dean asked, hoping Sam would understand his meaning.

Sam ran his hand through his hair as he thought. "I'm _not_ okay…not right now. But…I will be."

"I'm right here for you, you know that too."

"I do. And thanks." Sam's eyes gazed at the ceiling for a moment as he thought about the night. "Oh man, did I…?"

"Beat up the bartender? Yes, yes you did."

"Oh man. Dean, I'm so sorry."

"He didn't even press charges; it's fine."

"It's not fine, Dean. I can't believe I brought this attention onto us. Here, of all places!"

"You may get a few sideways glances from the blue haired old ladies. Some people love to stir up shit and point fingers even though their closets aren't skeleton free. But the rest of the town won't care. Hell, they may like you better now."

Sam pulled his legs up and rested his arms on his knees. He shook his head then grimaced as the movement didn't feel good.

"How about a nice greasy breakfast? My famous hangover cure!"

"Ugh gross, Dean."

"Come on, it'll do you good." Dean put the chair back near the desk and gestured for Sam to follow him. He watched the man gingerly get himself up off the bed. As he came close, Dean pulled him into another hug. It took a moment, but Sam hugged him back. He heard him mumble 'Jerk' into his shoulder. Dean let him go but kept his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Bitch. Let's go eat."

The End


End file.
